


Camera Obscura

by skivvysupreme



Category: Glee
Genre: Famous Blaine, M/M, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, you have everyone’s attention, Blaine Anderson. What are you going to do with it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camera Obscura

**Author's Note:**

> An anon on tumblr prompted a fic based on Darren Criss' new photoshoot for Broadway Style Guide :)

Someone is screaming outside.

Kurt leans a hip against the open window and peers down at the street one story below. Two tall, slender teenagers, a girl and a boy, chatter excitedly to a shorter man with slick black hair and a bright purple polo as he signs the backs of their phone cases.

“You’re one of my idols, Mr. Anderson,” the girl tells him, her words quick and clear as she speaks, her huge mane of black curls bouncing as she punctuates her sentences. “I went to your alma mater, before it burned down—”

“I hadn’t even heard they were allowing girls at Dalton. That’s amazing.”

She replies, “I was the first and only,” and Kurt can tell she’s proud by the way she tosses her hair back.

“A pioneer,” the man grins, holding a hand out to shake hers. “I can’t believe I got to meet you.”

Kurt grins, completely charmed. Judging by the look on her face, he probably just made this girl’s week.

The girl puts a shocked hand over her mouth, even as she accepts the handshake, and the boy next to her pipes up in the sudden silence. “Mr. Anderson, my grandparents brought my sister and me to New York a few months ago and we saw you in _The Book of Mormon_ and you were incredible! Elder Price is a dream role of mine!”

“It was a dream role for me, too! I can’t wait to see your interpretation in a few years’ time.”

The boy’s wide smile lights up his whole face, turning his expression slightly manic. He shakes his head, his dark, carefully styled waves of hair falling into his eyes. “That’s so cool of you to say, wow…”

The girl, having recovered her voice, holds up her phone and asks, “Can we please take a picture with you, Mr. Anderson?”

“Of course! And please, call me Blaine.”

The girl and boy stand on either side of him, and the boy reaches for the phone—“Babe, here, my arms are longer”—so he can take the photo.

“Thank you so much, oh my god, so great to meet you!”

“No, thank _you_ , the pleasure’s mine. Oh, how rude of me, I never got your names?”

“Jane Hayward.”

“Mason McCarthy.”

Blaine nods, placing a hand on each of their shoulders, and says, “I’ll be on the lookout for those names on the marquee.”

Mason just _shrieks_ at this statement; Jane grabs his hand and drags him away, turning over her shoulder to say, “We appreciate you stopping to talk to us! Goodbye, Blaine!”

Kurt watches Blaine Anderson wave at the two delighted fans as they run off. He enters the building just as Elliott joins Kurt at the window. “That’s who we’re shooting today,” Kurt says, struggling to keep his voice level when all he wants to do is sigh and swoon against the wall.

“Please don’t yell at him for being late. I don’t think Tina Cohen Chang ever recovered.”

“I wasn’t going to! He’s late because he was talking to some fans. God, he was perfect with them. And entirely sincere, I could tell.”

Elliott stares at Kurt, a slow smile spreading across his face at the faint pink tint to Kurt’s cheeks and the way he’s still looking towards the empty sidewalk where Blaine had been a moment ago. “You gonna be all right, tiger?”

Kurt lifts his chin with a scoff as he says, “What do you mean? I am a professional. I do not get starstruck.” He pushes away from the window and heads across the industrial space, busying himself with one of the wardrobe racks on the other side of the set.

“Number one? Yeah, you do, I’ve seen it,” Elliott snorts, following him, “and number two? ‘Starstruck’ isn’t the vibe you’re giving off right now.”

“Could you fix the lighting for the first setup, please? He’ll be here any second and we have a job to do.”

*****

Elliott’s right. Kurt is not starstruck by Blaine Anderson.

He is utterly _besotted_ with him.

Blaine apologizes for being late the moment he walks in, which Kurt brushes off with a flutter of his fingers as they trade introductions. He is more handsome and fit in real life than a billboard in Times Square could ever portray. A warm jolt sets Kurt’s heart beating harder in his chest when their hands touch, and Kurt looks up to find Blaine’s mouth dropped slightly open and his huge hazel eyes boring into Kurt’s own.

“I’m so excited to work with you,” Blaine says. “And to finally meet you. Rachel talks about you all the time in rehearsal.”

Ah, yes. Rachel Berry, budding Broadway starlet, slated to play the Maureen to Blaine’s Mark in the newest production of _Rent_. Also known as Kurt’s best friend and roommate, who comes home from rehearsal, more often than not, gushing about working with the handsome, talented Blaine Anderson as if she has never wanted anything more.

“All good things, I hope?”

“Great things, Kurt, I assure you,” Blaine says, taking a step forward.

Kurt _just barely_ manages to not lick his lips when Blaine moves into his space, instead choosing to turn away and guide Blaine towards the set. “Do you have any ideas for the shoot? I’ve got my vision in mind, something very bright and fun, very Blaine Anderson, but—“

“Very what?”

“Blaine Anderson. Broadway darling. The prince of the Great White Way,” Kurt recites, rifling through a box of bowties and thinking of the last article he’d read on the subject. Having made his debut in a wildly popular revival of _How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying_ , Blaine had moved on to _West Side Story_ and _The Book of Mormon_ , gathering critical praise and boosting ticket sales along the way. The choice to cast him in _Rent_ , a rock opera, has been a controversial move in the Broadway community, but buzz continues to gather the way it always has around Blaine, so with two weeks to go before opening night, everyone is waiting to see what he’s made of.

Blaine’s quiet, staring pensively at the colorful racks of clothes.

“Blaine? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re right, it’s very ‘Blaine Anderson,’” he says evenly, making quotes around his own name. He plucks a pair of bright yellow jeans and a white button-down from the rack. “I like these. I would wear these any day.”

There’s a sudden, chilly disconnect in Blaine’s demeanor, and the change in the air makes Kurt’s heart sink; Blaine’s responses have turned polite instead of enthused, and the smile on his face is pleasant and patient rather than energetic and curious.

“I’m… sure you would,” Kurt says slowly, setting down the box of bowties. He takes the yellow pants from Blaine’s hands and sets them back on the rack, trading them for a pair of tailored gray shorts and a black leather bomber jacket. “But there’s nothing wrong with changing it up a little, is there?”

Blaine lights up again, holding the leather jacket up to himself and tilting his head at Kurt. “Do you think I can pull it off?”

“You don’t get cast in _How to Succeed_ and in _Rent_ by being just one thing,” Kurt says, bending to pull a pair of black sneakers from the shoe rack instead of the signature boat shoes he’d been planning to utilize for half the shoot. “I get the feeling you’re ready to show that to everyone.”

“I was talking about the jacket.”

“Sure you were.” Kurt retrieves his own travel-size bottle of shampoo from his bag and tosses it to Blaine. “The bathroom’s in the back corner. Wash the cement out of your hair and be back in ten.”

*****

“I now present the new, not improved, but different… Blaine Anderson!” Elliott exclaims, stepping away from the hair and makeup chair as Blaine spins to face Kurt.

“Holy shit,” Kurt mutters, mentally cursing and worshipping Elliott for what he’s done to Blaine’s look.

Blaine’s hair, after a quick go with a blow dryer and a round brush, now falls all over his head in loose, glossy curls. He’s not a particularly broad-shouldered man, but the leather jacket hugs his compact frame perfectly, as do the gray shorts around his strong thighs. He stands and walks towards Kurt, and his whole stride changes; there’s a relaxed swing in his hips now, and something darker in his eyes.

“Is this more like what you had in mind?”

Blaine grins, running his hands over the leather jacket as he says, “I wanted something different but I wasn’t sure how to put it together. I feel great in this, thank you. I’m ready to work if you are.”

“Don’t think of it as work so much as play,” Elliott says, winking at Kurt from behind Blaine. He picks up his camera and walks over to the window. “Let’s get started.”

As the shoot gets underway, Kurt has never been happier that he’s more on the art direction and styling end of things. Blaine is _in it_ , serving more attitude and casual swagger than Kurt has seen in any of his previous work, and Kurt isn’t sure he could handle being on the receiving end of a camera right now. Instead, he maintains a safe distance, offering minimal direction and darting in and out of the shot to fix an errant curl or adjust Blaine’s clothes when needed.

Elliott connects with Blaine easily, as he does with all his subjects. He encourages him to stare down the camera when he wants to, or to act as though the camera isn’t even there if he’d rather look at something else. He reminds Blaine to move about the scenery, to slouch if the mood strikes him, and to only smile that famous smile if he feels like it.

Blaine obliges, and the result is breathtaking. This is a more challenging Blaine Anderson, not just a Broadway baby or a sweetheart of the red carpet, but a young artist. He sways slowly to the beat of Kurt’s chosen mood music (The Beatles’ _Abbey Road_ instead of his initial choice, _Please Please Me_ ) and hums along quietly rather than singing so he doesn’t mess up any of the shots. Blaine contains his reputed energy but seems no less energetic for it; instead, his gaze becomes even more intense and magnetic, and his body’s a coiled spring in all his poses. He’s brooding and masculine in a way that makes Kurt’s mouth go dry.

Three wardrobe changes later, Blaine’s in a rich blue suit, styled with a half-buttoned white henley and scrunched-up sleeves instead of the neat button-down and colorful bowtie Kurt had originally planned for the outfit. He’s resting on a ladder while Elliott, standing farther away, scrolls through the photos he’s taken to show Kurt the reel.

“Something’s still missing,” Kurt says, shaking his head as he flips back and forth through the third outfit’s shots, in which Blaine reclines in a big gray vest and sporty-chic pants that are pushed up to expose his ankles.

“Are you kidding me?” Elliott whispers, rolling his eyes. “We’ve got shots of him no one has ever gotten. This is a great set of photos.”

“We do, and it is, but…”

“But what? You just want to keep watching him model. I know your bullshit, Kurt.”

Blaine watches Kurt from the ladder, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

When their eyes meet, it hits him.

“We don’t have a portrait yet. Elliott, give me the camera. Blaine, come down, just stand in front of the ladder.” Kurt hangs the camera around his neck and turns off all the extra lighting, allowing the natural sunlight from the huge, open window behind him to fall on Blaine head-on and unassisted. He reaches forward to guide some of Blaine’s hair into his face so that the loosest waves fall over one eye. Then he steps back and says, his voice far more casual than he feels, “Everyone’s going to eat this up, you know.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means people care about your next move. It means you’re a star.”

The look on Blaine’s face darkens. “I appreciate support, but I didn’t get into this to be a star. I just want to make art and help people.”

Kurt raises his finger over the shutter button. “Well, you have everyone’s attention, Blaine Anderson. What are you going to do with it?”

“What if I don’t want everyone’s attention, Kurt?” Blaine asks, dropping his chin a little and fixing Kurt with a very serious look through the lens. He lowers his voice so that only Kurt can hear him and says, “What if I only want yours?”

Startled, Kurt’s finger presses the button and snaps the photograph. He pulls it back up immediately, muttering something about checking to make sure the light’s falling the way he wants it, and almost gasps aloud when he sees the photo.

“That’s a wrap,” he says, his voice low, and he holds the camera out towards Elliott so he can see.

“You got the shot you wanted in one take? Yeah, right, you’re full of— _shit_. Okay. Yeah, that’s… that’s a wrap.”

Blaine smiles, his sunny demeanor returning in an instant. “Guys, this was an amazing shoot! I have to admit, I never feel this comfortable and open with most photographers. But I’d work with you two any day. If there’s nothing else, I’ll go and get changed.”

Kurt nods, looking back at the final photo and fighting down a shiver. Blaine’s eyes look like caramel green apples as he stares up at Kurt from under his brows, and the blue suit and cool metal behind him sets the color of his wild curls alight. And the look in his eyes is everything. Ambition, vulnerability, desire... It’s Blaine.

Not “Broadway’s Blaine Anderson.” Just Blaine.

Elliott leans over his shoulder to look at the photo again. “Jesus, what did you say to him?”

_What if I don’t want everyone’s attention, Kurt? What if I only want yours?_

_I am a professional_ , Kurt tells himself as he watches Blaine slip the blue jacket from his shoulders and set it in one of the garment bags hanging on the wardrobe rack. _I am a professional. I will not ask out the hot Broadway star. Even if he kind of obviously hits on me. I am a professional._

_What if I only want yours?_

“Blaine, wait!” The words leave Kurt’s mouth before he can stop them, despite his internal mantra and despite what he has tried to uphold all afternoon. He hands the camera to Elliott and runs over to the wardrobe rack, snatching the blue jacket from the garment bag and handing it back to Blaine. “It looks too good on you not to keep it. If you want it.”

“Oh, gosh, thank you so much, Kurt! I’ll just keep it on, then. Such a cool suit, I wish I had somewhere to go in this.”

“Then go out with me. Right now. We’ll get dinner.”

Blaine runs a hand through his hair, pushing it up off his face as he blinks in surprise. “Really?”

Kurt nods, pulling a dark green dinner jacket from the rack and slipping it on over his gray button-down. He leans forward and kisses Blaine for one long, quiet moment before he pulls back and sighs, “You have my attention, Blaine. I was trying not to be inappropriate, but—you have it, okay?”

Blaine sways towards Kurt when he moves away, his eyes opening slowly as he nods, “Okay.”

Elliott’s already holding up Kurt’s bag when Kurt runs back to him. “So _that’s_ the secret to getting shots like that. I just have to make sure my subject wants to sleep with me,” he teases. “That’s the secret to great photography! That’s what my work’s been missing!”

“But everyone _does_ want to sleep with you, Elliott, so what’s your excuse?” Kurt shoots back, slinging his bag over his shoulder with a playful smirk at his friend.

“Ha, ha.”

“Do you mind cleaning up on your own today? I’ll owe you one.”

Elliott rolls his eyes. “Nah, go on. You both look like you’re gonna explode if you don’t get out of here soon.”

“Thank you, Elliott,” Blaine says, coming up behind them to take Kurt’s hand. “Ready, Kurt?”

“Ready, Blaine. Lead the way.”


End file.
